


There Is No Road to Paradise

by cyberiandemons



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Flashbacks, Gen, Medical Procedures, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25343974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberiandemons/pseuds/cyberiandemons
Summary: As Anastasia bled out on the ground, she looked up at the woman before her, struggling to see her as her vision faded. “I don’t want to die…” she whispered, voice hoarse.The woman smiled again, and Anastasia could have sworn she saw fangs. “You won’t. Don’t worry, Anastasia. You never will.”—The story of Nastya's first night on the Aurora.
Relationships: Dr Carmilla & Nastya Rasputina, Jonny d'Ville & Nastya Rasputina, The Aurora & Nastya Rasputina
Comments: 11
Kudos: 90





	There Is No Road to Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> I got into the Mechs a few weeks ago and have been binging their content ever since, and I finally started feeling confident enough in my knowledge of the lore/characters to write a fic! I hope y'all enjoy it :)
> 
> Title and the lyrics at the beginning/end are from "Cyberian Demons" by The Mechanisms (if you haven't heard it yet, it's in the "The Mechanisms @ Lashings" videos on Youtube! It's super good and has Carmilla in it, which I always love).

_ Oh, Anastasia _ _  
_ _ Your people need you to hear their cries _ _  
_ _ You’re a butterfly in a glass cage _ _  
_ _ But even butterflies can cause hurricanes _

_ The Demons of your past _ _  
_ _ Can be driven from this abattoir _ _  
_ _ When the time comes, I shan’t be far... _

* * *

As Anastasia lay bleeding on the floor, she heard the echo of footsteps approaching her. She whimpered, trying to curl up further. The movement only served to further agitate the wounds on her chest. She let out a soft cry and stopped moving. As the figure drew near, she squeezed her eyes shut tight. Maybe they hadn’t heard her voice, hadn’t seen her move. Maybe if they thought she was already dead, they wouldn’t hurt her more.

The footsteps stopped before her. “Anastasia,” came a soft, warm voice that Anastasia didn’t recognize. Anastasia just tried to remain frozen on the ground. “What a surprise.” As movement sounded above her, Anastasia’s eyes opened before she could stop them. She saw an unfamiliar woman kneeling in front of her, sympathy on her face. “Look around,” the woman said, quiet, urgent. “These people, they don’t love you. They’ve taken everything.  _ Everything _ ! It doesn’t have to be this way. I can give you something you’ve never had. I can offer you…” The woman smiled, just for a moment. “Infinity. You’ve never had anyone, have you, Anastasia? And even if you had, no one survived.  _ I _ can give you eternal life, Anastasia.  _ I _ am the only one who can save you.”

Anastasia looked up at the woman, struggling to see her as her vision faded. “I don’t want to die…” she whispered, voice hoarse. 

The woman smiled again, and Anastasia could have sworn she saw fangs. “You won’t. Don’t worry, Anastasia. You never will.”

Obviously, Anastasia had questions. But her vision was quickly fading, and she couldn’t bring herself to speak anymore. She just nodded. The woman extended her hand. With all of the strength left in her body, Anastasia reached up and took it. Anastasia grunted as the woman lifted her with surprising strength, cradling her to her chest. As Anastasia leaned against the woman, the last thought she had was that the woman’s body wasn’t warm like she had been expecting—it was very, very cold. Like a snow bank. Like a corpse. Anastasia’s eyes closed as she lost consciousness. 

* * *

When Anastasia snapped into sudden consciousness, fire was pouring into her veins. Every inch of her body was burning, a burn fiercer than any pain she had ever felt before, a burn  _ inside her veins.  _ A piercing sound began to fill the air, and she realized a moment later that the sound was her own scream. As she looked wildly around, still screaming in agony, she saw a young man with strange marks on his face standing next to her, staring at her with wide eyes. He turned his head, and Anastasia tried to blink her tears away as she followed his gaze to a woman standing in front of strange machines on the other side of her. Distantly, Anastasia placed her as the woman she had seen in the palace. She continued to scream.

“Is she supposed to be awake already?” the man asked, voice breaking. 

The woman looked over, facing Nastya. Surprise graced her face, as if she hadn’t noticed Anastasia’s screaming. “Hm? Oh, no, not yet. Give her more anesthetic, would you?”

“Uh, right.”

The man walked over to something that resembled an IV stand next to the bed Anastasia was laying on. Anastasia looked down at her body, breath hitching as she saw at least three tubes coming out of her arms. She tried to lift her hand to rip them out, desperate to stop whatever they were putting into her veins, but the man caught her hand and pushed it back to the table. “I know it hurts,” he said quietly, “But trust me, it’ll hurt more if we stop now.” 

Anastasia tried to stop herself from screaming, tried to quiet herself. Her screams just broke into loud, ragged sobs. “Please stop,” she managed to choke out, “Please, please—”

The man turned away from her, doing something at the IV stand. She heard him say something that might have been “sorry,” and then everything went black again.

* * *

_ Anastasia, is that your name? _

Anastasia furrowed her brow. She thought she did, anyway. She couldn’t really feel her own body, couldn’t see anything. There was nothing but dark, inky blackness around her. “Yes,” she called out after a moment, trying to shove down the complicated feelings that name was bringing into her chest. “Who are you?”

_ My name is Aurora.  _

“That’s a pretty name. Why can’t I see anything?”

_ You’re unconscious. The anesthetic is leaving you now, though. You should be awake soon.  _

“Oh.” Anastasia hesitated, unsure what to say next. “Um… who are you? Are you the woman who saved me?”

A deep, rumbling sound came—like vibrating machinery, like a warm fire. Anastasia was fairly certain the sound was supposed to be laughter.  _ No. That’s Dr. Carmilla. And I’m not the man you saw, either; that was Jonny. You’re inside of me right now.  _

Anastasia bit back a dirty joke. “Pardon?”

_ I’m a starship.  _

“Oh! Oh, right. Okay. So I’m on a starship?”

_ Yes. You’re already very far from home.  _

“Ah.” If Anastasia had more of a body right now, she would be curling up very, very tightly. “Well, at least I’ve got good company.”

When Aurora spoke, she sounded like she was smiling.  _ I’m very excited to have you onboard, Anastasia _ .

Anastasia slowly opened her eyes. She took in a few deep, steady breaths, trying to assess the situation. The first thing she took in was that two of three IV tubes had been removed from her arms. Strangely enough, there weren’t any signs at all of the other ones she had seen earlier—her skin was completely unblemished. 

She was laying in some kind of vaguely comfortable hospital bed, clothed in a thin hospital gown with a few worn blankets over her. No wonder she was shivering. The feeling of fire in her veins was gone, thankfully, but there was still a dull ache throughout her entire body. She grunted, pushing herself up slightly to get a better look around the room. Well, she was definitely in a spaceship. If the metal walls and floors and ceilings hadn’t been enough of a hint, there was a large porthole in front of her that showed a vast, black, starlit expanse. Were stars supposed to be  _ moving  _ like that, though?

Her stomach lurched. Right, duh. The ship was moving. Very, very quickly. She squeezed her eyes shut, taking in several long, deep breaths until her stomach settled. Nausea over, she opened her eyes again. 

“‘Morning.”

Anastasia jumped, then winced as the motion tugged uncomfortably on the IV in her arm. She turned to see that man—Jonny, had Aurora said?—sitting in a chair next to her bed. A flash of metal on his belt caught her eyes, and she inhaled sharply as she saw a gun. She brought her knees up to her chest, curling up very tightly and trying to inch away from him as subtly as possible. His brow furrowed in a way that told her she hadn’t been entirely successful. She tried to speak, but just began coughing instead. Jonny gestured to a glass of water on the table next to her, and she hesitated for a moment before taking a sip. The water was cool and soothing on her throat, and she quickly found herself chugging the entire glass. 

Throat somewhat soothed, she cleared her throat and spoke. “Are you Jonny?” 

Jonny’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah. Did Carmilla tell you that?”

Anastasia shook her head. “No, Aurora did.”

“... Aurora?” His brow furrowed. 

“This ship?”

Jonny let out a short laugh. “Uh, it doesn’t speak.”

“Yes, she does.” Anastasia narrowed her eyes at him. “She spoke to me while I was asleep. She’s very nice.”

“... Right.” He sighed, leaning back in the chair. “You’re Anastasia Romanov, right?”

At the sound of her full name, she clutched the blanket under her hands as her mind flashed back to the protesters, to the chants, to her family—

She took in a long, deep breath, trying to push the images away and steady herself. “Romanova,” she quietly correctly after a moment. “But yeah. That’s me.”

“Well, my name is Jonny D’Ville.” He grinned at her. Remembering the flash of fangs she had seen on Carmilla, Anastasia stared at his teeth. They seemed perfectly average. “How old are you?”

Anastasia tried to draw herself up taller, straightening her back. “Nineteen.”

Another short, disbelieving laugh left Jonny. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Nineteen, seriously?”

Anastasia huffed. “Well, how old are you?”

“Hah! That’s a complicated question.” Jonny leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. “I  _ was  _ 22.”

Anastasia raised an eyebrow. “What, and now you’re 23?”

Jonny sputtered. “No! I was 22 when she changed me. That was a long time ago now, though. Maybe…” He exhaled loudly and dramatically, staring up at the ceiling. “A few decades ago, by this point. Honestly, I’ve lost count of the years.”

“... I mean, I’ve known people in their 90s who still knew their exact age.” She stared at him. “That’s not that long. Are you sure you’re not just bad at counting?”

“I’m not bad at counting!” He crossed his arms. “I’m—listen, I’m trying to tell you that I’m immortal.”

“... Ah.” Anastasia rested her head on her knees, looking over at him. “So… when she said she could give me eternal life, she… that was real? Am I…?”

“Immortal, too! Yup.” He grinned, mouth wide, teeth bared. Anastasia furrowed her brow as she looked at him. There was something… off, in his eyes. Something that didn’t quite match his casual grin, something she couldn’t quite place.

Anastasia rubbed her arms. “Is that what was happening to me when I woke up earlier? She was… making me immortal?”

“Yeah.” He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Fucking sucks, doesn’t it? Most painful thing you’ve ever experienced?”

“Yeah.” She shuddered. “What did she  _ do  _ to me, exactly?”

Jonny shrugged. “Fuck if I know. I barely understand what she did to  _ me.  _ You’ll have to ask her sometime.”

“Right.” She yawned. “Can I still sleep?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Oh, good.” She bit back another yawn. “I’d hate to not be able to sleep.”

“Looks like you’re pretty close to sleep already.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t be. How long was I out?”

Jonny squinted as he looked at a clock on the wall. “Uh, the doctor brought you onto the ship about sixteen hours ago. You’ve probably still got some more sleep ahead of you before you feel back to normal, though. Well, as normal as you get now. After she finished changing me, I was out for almost 24 hours.” 

“Well, fuck.” She shifted around and imagined trying to sleep in this bed without the aid of a heavy anesthetic. She grimaced. “I don’t suppose there’s a comfier bed anywhere?”

“Nah, we don’t have enough bedrooms, so that’s your new bed.” At her alarmed look, Jonny laughed. “I’m fucking with you. There’s, like, two dozen bedrooms on the ship. C’mon.” He stood, and the gun at his belt caught the light again. Anastasia suppressed another shudder. 

Anastasia slowly unfurled her long, awkward limbs, swinging them over the edge of the bed. She felt a gentle tug in her arm, and she glanced down to see the IV cord stretched taut. “Oh. Uh, Jonny?”

“What?” He turned, eyebrows raised. She gestured to the IV. “Oh, right. Hang on. Uh, go ahead and take the bandage over it off.” She did so, wincing as the bandage pulled away from her skin. Jonny went over to a cupboard, rifling through it for a moment before emerging with a piece of gauze. He walked over, quickly placing the gauze over the entry point of the IV. “Ready?” Before she had a chance to respond, he pulled the IV out. She winced, looking away. “There we go.” Jonny stepped back, gesturing for her to stand. 

She frowned. “Don’t I need a bandage?”

He grinned. “Do you?”

Anastasia furrowed her brow, looking down at her arm. She pulled the gauze away, then blinked. Her arm was completely healed. “Holy shit,” she muttered.

“Yeah, you’ll get used to it eventually. C’mon.” Anastasia stood on shaking feet. She took several steps forward, then let out a small cry as she began to race to the floor. Jonny caught her, steadying her back on her feet. “Maybe try not to fall on your face before we get to your bedroom.” She flipped him off. He laughed. “Alright, come on.” He slung her arm over his shoulders, guiding her slowly out of the room. A few times, getting impatient with how slow they were walking, Anastasia tried to speed up. Each time, she ended up having to slow back down a few seconds later as her legs and lungs screamed at her. 

Finally, they stepped into a small bedroom. Anastasia glanced around, trying to take in the room as she limped to the bed. There was a bed built into an alcove in front of her, a desk and dresser sticked out from the walls, a lamp embedded in the ceiling, and a large porthole next to the bed that looked out into space. This time, she made sure to look away from the window before nausea could overtake her. Jonny helped her hobble over to the bed, then stepped back as she shakily sat down. Anastasia immediately began to pull blankets around her, trying to still her shivering. Jonny glanced over her. He appeared to debate something for a few moments before sighing. “Do you want to borrow some of my pajamas? To tide you over until we hit the next planet and can get you something of your own.”

Anastasia opened her mouth to protest that she wasn’t in the habit of taking charity and didn’t intend to start now. Another violent shiver pushed her objections back down her throat. She let out a frustrated sigh. “Yes, I… yes, please. Thank you.” 

As he went towards the door, Anastasia glanced at the wall next to her bed and noticed a port built into the metal. “Wait!” She dropped to the floor, investigating the port. 

“Uh, what?”

Anastasia looked up to see Jonny looking at her like she was crazy. Fair. She grunted as she climbed back onto the bed. “Are there any free USB cords on the ship?”

Jonny blinked. “Uh… probably?”

“Could you get me one?” At his annoyed look, she put on her best “take pity on me, I just died” expression and added, “Please?”

“Ugh.” Jonny rolled his eyes. “Sure. Be back soon.”

Anastasia grinned as Jonny left the room. “Thank you!” Left alone with the ship, Anastasia sighed and tried to get settled into her new bed. It certainly didn’t feel as comfortable as her old bed, but it was hard to tell if that was truly a reflection of the mattress quality or just because Anastasia was getting adjusted to being fully in the physical world without being even slightly tied into virtual reality. She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to focus on how much better it was than the hospital bed. 

She hadn’t even realized she was nodding off until the sound of the door opening snapped her to rapid lucidity. In a split second, she was curled up in the corner, blankets piled around her and pillow clutched defensively over her stomach. 

Jonny was standing there, caution in his eyes as he slowly held up his hands. “Just me, princess.”

Anastasia‘s face twisted up in annoyance. “Don’t call me that.” She slowly unfurled her long limbs, resuming her former position on the bed. Jonny held up a few pieces of clothing, two quilts, and a long cord, then began to slowly take steps towards the bed. When Anastasia didn’t recoil again, he sped up his pace slightly and set the items on the end of the bed. Anastasia leaned forward, looking the clothing over. Jonny was definitely shorter than her. He was also much wider, though, so the clothes would fit, even if they would be short on her. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Anastasia.”

She sucked in a quick breath at the sound of her name. Memories immediately rushed towards her—her family, now dead, calling her by full name when telling her they loved her; Alyosha, neck now sliced open, calling her by her full name while comforting her after a fight with her mother. Her tutor, speaking so tenderly and comfortingly as she gently rubbed her back while stabbing a knife into her stomach over and over and—

“Anastasia!” Feeling a hand on her wrists, Anastasia whimpered and tried to jerk back. The grip held firm as the voice came again, softer, “Anastasia, you’re safe.”

Anastasia’s focus slowly faded back in. Her hands were clutching her long hair, trying to yank it, only stopped by Jonny’s hands on her wrists. She tried to still her breathing as she let her wrists fall limp. Jonny held tight for another few moments before slowly stepping back. There was something approaching concern on his face. “Anastasia—”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. She took in several deep breaths, trying to lower her heart rate. “Sorry, I—sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” He moved back, sitting on the edge of her bed. “Is there something else you want me to call you?”

She thought for a moment before her mind traveled back to her childhood nickname—the name she had shunned a few years ago, wanting to prove to everybody how mature and grown up she was. That didn’t really matter now, did it? “Nastya. Call me Nastya.”

“Can do, Nastya.” He stood, sighing and rubbing his face. “You should try to sleep. You’ve got plenty more rest ahead of you before you start to feel normal again.”

Nastya nodded, settling back down into bed. “Alright. Thank you, Jonny.”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” He turned and opened the door, then paused and looked back. “Hey, what did you want that cable for?”

“Oh!” Nastya grinned, leaning over to plug one end into the wall before sitting back up and plugging the other end into the port in her wrist. 

Jonny shuddered. “Fucking Cyberians,” he muttered. Then, a little louder, “Goodnight, princess.” Nastya rolled her eyes. Jonny pressed a button on the wall and turned the lights off before exiting and closing the door behind him.

Nastya unplugged the cord long enough to change into a pair of baggy pajamas and spread the quilts over the bed. With that done, she settled back down and plugged the cord back in. She closed her eyes, relaxing into the mattress. “Aurora?” she whispered.

The ship hummed.  _ I’m here, Nastya. _

“Thank you. I’m glad you’re here.”

_ And I’m glad you’re here. Rest now, young princess. I’ll keep you safe ‘til morning. _

“Okay,” Nastya muttered, already rapidly falling towards sleep. “Goodnight, Aurora.”

_ Goodnight, Nastya. Welcome to your new life.  _

* * *

_ Oh, Anastasia _ _  
_ _ Accept the destiny of your blood _ _  
_ _ I see in you in the Demon’s eyes _ __  
_ There is no road to paradise  _ _  
_ __ Come away from the window, Anastasia...

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on Tumblr at cyberian-demons (where I am constantly screaming about the Mechs).


End file.
